Olive was pretty sure she was going to spontaneously combust. Hattie's eyes were making her insides feel all funny, and she wasn't quite sure how to fix the feeling. She just knew she wanted a kiss, and really, could that be all bad? They were sisters...right? This was okay...right?

Olive was having a rather difficult time convincing herself.

"What are you going to wear?" Somehow, the question seemed to carry a kind of subtext that Olive wasn't sure she was entirely comfortable with.


"Blue! Lovely. You'll look lovely, won't you?"

Olive just nodded. Hattie's mouth was still far too close, and she didn't want to risk any drastic movements, for fear that...something would happen. She just didn't really want to admit what.

Olive had only ever heard about kisses from what little books she had read and by what she had seen her mother bestow upon one Sir or the next, sometimes a Duke. It always looked nice-kisses, always looked so intimate and private that they made Olive blush and look away quickly or turn the page of her book so hurriedly that a Mistress would scold her for doing so.

Olive had never wanted a kiss, not before this.

Olive felt herself tense. Her entire body was rigid and coiled, and it was as if she were a cat. Olive had always liked cats, and she certainly felt like one. She wanted nothing more than to bound out of the room on all fours, and never come back. Or curl up somewhere with a bowl of tuna, and lose herself in food. But, Hattie's eyes were mesmerizing. They made Olive ache, and the whereabouts of this particular ache made her want to cry.

As far as biology went, she had garnered enough from finishing school and her mother's extensive collection of…novels to understand exactly what was causing that ache.

And she hated knowing it.

Hattie was making her feel all funny, and the smirk turning up the sides of her older sister's mouth only signaled her sadistic pleasure.

There was heat-body heat and the smell of lavender and vanilla. Olive liked vanilla, but lavender made her sleepy.

"What's the matter, Olive?" Hattie asked, breath hot and tantalizing, hitting Olive's face and making her shiver.

"Why are you doing this…" Olive squeaked-a squeak that sounded so pathetic it made her wince. She had never felt so helpless. So tense and shaking with a need so foreign and overwhelming that her eyes wanted to roll back into her head.

"Because you want it…"

Olive wanted to die.

Hattie's lips had pressed against hers suddenly, soft and hot and wet. Olive moaned-a sound she'd never made before. This wasn't the kind of moan she made when she fell down the stairs the week before, hitting her leg on the wall and bruising herself terribly. No, this was pleasure.

Hattie placed her hands on Olive's shoulders, pushing her down and pinning her to the bed. Olive squirmed, desperate to escape Hattie's grasp, but eager to receive more physical attentions.

"This is what you wanted me to do, sister-dear…" Hattie's breath was on her neck, and she felt hips pressing against her own-pelvis-to-pelvis and god, the ache was unbearable now…

"Please…no, no, I don't…"

"You don't want? Want me to kiss you? I beg to differ, Ollie."

Teeth scraped down her neck, and Olive was suddenly painfully aware that this was nothing like the kisses she'd read about.

This hurt.

Those teeth felt sharp as daggers, and Olive was sure blood would start to flow freely from her neck.

She didn't want to bleed.

She wanted to feel loved.


Not this.


"That's right. Say my name again."

Olive bit her tongue, determined to keep herself as quiet as possible.

Unfortunately, Hattie was having none of that.

Teeth sank into her neck, and Olive yelped and managed to summon enough strength to free herself from her sister's hold.

Hattie nearly fell off her bed, managing to barely catch herself and stifle a growl of rage.

Olive bolted, going as quickly as her feet would take her, eager to escape and eager to cry herself to sleep or sob until there was nothing left.